


Peachface

by penlex



Series: Mick Rory Appreciation Porn [6]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), DCU
Genre: Affection, Aftercare, Afterglow, Animal Play, Awkward Flirting, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Flirting, Food, Gentle Sex, Hand Feeding, Praise Kink, Romance, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex, a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-07 19:36:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8813584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penlex/pseuds/penlex
Summary: Mick and Amaya do it like they do it on Discovery Channel. It just so happens that not every animal likes to get all that wild.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The playlist for this one included: Kiss of Life and No Ordinary Love by Sade, Aquarius by Tinashe, Speechless and Blow by Beyonce, and actual lovebird calls.

Amaya finds Mick in his room, halfway through another swig from the booze she stole for him, lounging in a spinning chair with his booted feet propped up on the bed, unconcerned with the dirt on the sheets. He'd left his door open to let in some illusion of space, despite that it cuts down on privacy too. He's been feeling closed in on, caged, lately, what with... things.

"I recognize that look in your eyes," Amaya says from his doorway just as he's beginning to swallow his mouthful. The taste of the booze itself is not great, but Mick has still found himself preferring it to his usual brand ever since Amaya gave it to him. He's been trying to save it, _savor_ it, just a mouthful here or there when he feels like he needs it.

"What look?" he growls. Amaya just gives him that look, the same one she always gives him, having never been too impressed with his affected vocal tone. Mick always keeps it up anyway. He's been doing it for decades now, ever since he got the pipes to pull it off. He's not going to let it go just because some girl he likes happens to be an expert in bark vs. bite. Quick enough, Amaya blinks away her flat expression and comes inside with half a smile. The door closes behind her, and Mick sits up to cap and shelf the hooch, give Amaya his attention. He likes to give her his attention. She seems to like having it.

"The animal in you, Mick Rory," she murmurs as she sways slowly closer. She meets his eyes when she mentions it. No matter how crazy he makes them go (or how crazy they go on their own), Amaya always meets Mick's eyes. "It wants to be let free." She's standing right before him now, and he looks up at her from where he is, feeling unsure. It's not something he is very much accustomed to feeling. But after she hugged him the way she did, the way she pulled him in close to look at him like he needed looking at, kissed him on the cheek... She's been treating him like he's a certain way, with a softness to both of them, and as far as Mick knew he just wasn't that way. But at every instance, every smile, the hug, the concern, the kiss, and every time since that she has half deliberately brushed against him as they pass in the halls, Mick has felt exactly as soft as she's been with him. It's alarming, to say the least, but it also just... feels good.

"You didn't believe me," Amaya continues now, touching Mick again in that way she has that he can't quite get his mind around, her hands cupping his elbows and guiding him to his feet. "When I told you about the animal inside you, last time." Mick towers over her now, but somehow the energy between them hasn't changed with the adjusted position, like it almost always does when Mick gets into someone's space like this. She is still calm and warm, and he is still unsteady.

"Not lookin' for therapy," he mumbles, not certain where she's going with this, what she's after. She smiles at him, her eyes sparkling up at him. She might have been laughing at him, and Mick might have gotten defensive and angry, but she also tilts her head and pulls him just a step closer into her space. Mick stumbles forward, his body naturally going where Amaya directs but his mind tripping him up a little. Her body heat starts to sink through his clothes, into his tired muscles. He remembers the hug, swallows. She still hasn't looked away from his eyes, and he hasn't looked away from hers either - wants to, but also doesn't.

"Good thing that's not what I'm offering." Amaya's voice is thick with mirth, but it's the playful kind, not condescending. The way only Lisa and Len have ever been with Mick. She steps back, out of the closed circle she had made of her own arms and Mick's body, and lifts one long-fingered hand to touch her Vixen amulet. Mick tenses for just a second, bracing himself through his confusion - he's only ever seen her use her amulet for a fight - but there's only the soft rustle of feathers and a cheerful, bouncing whistle. A second later, Amaya is moving back further so that Mick can watch her as she adjusts her clothes, primps at her hair, and - very gently - snaps her teeth at him. Mick can feel a helpless sort of amusement bubble up alongside his confusion. He raises an eyebrow at her, questioning and teasing both. He feels something in his throat that could be a real laugh if he let it out, something he hasn't felt since before he ever set foot on this damn ship.

"Now you dance," Amaya explains with a quiet, incomplete chuckle. Mick snorts, incredulous and a little bit uncomfortable, shakes his head. Amaya nods back, insistent and happy despite Mick's reluctance.

"Ain't got no music," Mick blurts, inexplicably needing to give her some excuse for his refusal. But Amaya only grins at him, and opens up her mouth to let out that same chirping Mick heard when she activated her amulet. She clicks her teeth again for rhythm, and in between there are things like melodious kissy face noises and some sugary sweet extra lite version of a hyena giggle. Mick can feel that his eyes are wide again now, this time not with crazy but instead with disbelief, both eyebrows high. But Amaya's eyes are shining and her grin is wide and Mick just... can't quite resist her. He catches on to her rhythm the best he can, even though she's not really making any kind of music - at least not music that Mick's primate ears can make any sense of - and, despite something hot and squirmy deep in his gut that thirty years ago he might have called embarrassment, he rocks his shoulders and hips along to it. Amaya interrupts her birdsong with a very human laugh, gleeful, and Mick's mouth lifts at the edges in response, beyond his control. She surges forward, back into his space, and has her arms wrapped around him again before he has even stopped moving.

She feels good around him, warm, and at once both gentle and incredibly sturdy. Mick can feel the muscles of her arms on his sides and back, her thighs against his, and, when he finally, hesitantly, allows himself to put his arms around her too, the strong bones of her back and shoulders under his hands. Mick has just begun to sink into the hug, the unbalanced tension in his body starting to relax in the silence of his confining room, when he feels a tickle at the base of his neck. He zeroes his attention in on it, curious, and when it turns into a slight nip Mick realizes with a jolt that Amaya is kissing him. Mick holds very still and lets her do it, enjoying it despite the way the foreignness of it causes his breath to catch in his chest and his heartbeat to race, his stomach to swoop like he missed a step even as a different kind of heat begins to build in his gut.

"What-" he starts, and then realizes he's unconsciously left out his growl. He clears his throat, but when he speaks again he somehow hasn't corrected himself, nothing affected in his tone, just his natural voice. "What are we doing?" Amaya smiles against Mick's pulse point, runs her nose up along the line of his jaw, so that she can lip at the lobe of his ear.

"Behaving like animals," she answers him, a lilting smugness in her voice not quite hiding something gentler and less familiar underneath. She pulls back again, sliding her hands down over his chest, but stays pressed against his body where she can while putting her eyes back on his. "If you're okay with that?" Mick swallows again, unaccountably nervous, and lets his own hands slip down to Amaya's waist and tentatively under her jacket and blouse as he dips his chin once in a brief nod. She's clearly happy to hear it, and lets Mick know with another soft click of her teeth and a quick eskimo kiss.

Amaya keeps kissing Mick the way she started out, brushing her lips against his throat and over his collar, occasionally pinching him with her teeth gently, but it's like no kiss Mick has ever received before - none of the wetness from the inside of her mouth, not even a hint of her tongue, no real biting. Despite the lack of heat, the way Amaya is touching him and lipping at him is deeply sensual, drawing the silence of the room around them like a cocoon of warmth. Slowly, Mick lets himself pick up on Amaya's movements and copy them, moving dry lips over whatever part of her skin he can reach with her pressed so close against him - the side of her face, her ear, underneath the curve of her jaw - and she sighs against him, pleased. She follows his lead too, sliding her hands up underneath his shirt and along the cushioned ridges of his abs. Mick can feel his body hair tickle against her hands, the muffled sensation when she passes over a scar, and pauses. In theory, he knows Amaya has surely felt skin like his before, or at least will have no care even if she hasn't, but his stomach still tightens waiting for her reaction to the feel of him. He's relieved and turned up hotter when her reaction turns out to be a breath of a moan against his shoulder; he can't help but moan quietly right back.

Amaya steps back again to let her jacket fall off her shoulders, and then to pull her blouse over her head. Mick watches eagerly at every inch of her smooth skin she reveals to him. He's gotten with the program by now, or he might have looked away in uncertainty, but if she wants to do this with him then that's what they'll do. Mick has never been one to turn aside something he wants when it's freely given to him.

Amaya isn't wearing a bra underneath her shirt. Her breasts are beautiful, not even a handful each (at least not a Mick-sized handful), perky with dark brown nipples already pebbled in the cool air that Mick wants to get his mouth on as soon as he's allowed. If he's allowed. If she'd like that. When Amaya comes closer to grab the hem of Mick's raggedy henley and get him on her level of undress, Mick can see a spray of barely-there freckles low across her chest. It reminds him of Lenny for a second, but instead of making him get all sad and pulling him out of the orbit Amaya has put him in around her, it just makes him even more glad to have her - similar and different, familiar and brand new. Definitely 'worth it'.

Mick's shirt lands on the chair behind him and Amaya takes her time drinking in the sight of him the way he did her. Mick feels it keenly as her gaze passes over his broad shoulders, his barrel chest, and all his burns, the smear of a ruined tattoo on his side. She follows her eyes with her hands, dragging her warm and gentle touch across every inch of his torso with a firmness that should be incongruous but instead is just... right. Her hands glide up over his shoulders, down his arms, the sensation muted over the extensive scar tissue. Amaya looks enthralled, and Mick is just as captivated to see her seeing him the way she does.

When Amaya has finally looked her fill, after several long moments of heady attention that has Mick sweating, she shimmies out of her pants. No panties either and unsurprisingly all natural, no landscaping. Mick's conflicted now, mouth watering, about where he wants to taste Amaya first. The look she gives him is half smirk, smug in the face of how hot she can obviously tell she's making him, her eyes flicking down briefly to where Mick's cock is visibly hard through his pants. The other half is just a genuine, happy smile, a little flirty, flattered and having fun. Her easy comfort, grace, and power are just as present and riveting here, in the quiet intimacy of them alone together in Mick's room, as they are during battle.

Mick turns slowly to keep Amaya in his direct sight as she moves to kneel on his bed, her back to him. His eyes move over the new vantage point - her gorgeous hair (it looks so soft; he hopes she'll let him touch it), her angular shoulders (another perfect place to put his mouth), more hiding freckles and a mole or two, the curving slope of her spine framed by lean muscles, her pert ass (Mick's palms itch), the backs of her thighs thin but visibly strong and only a split second away from being dangerously stronger if she chooses, her relaxed calves, the ashy bottoms of her feet. The light in the room is weird, some futuristic version of flourescent, and Mick wishes he would have known he was going to have Amaya naked in here before she came. He would have lit candles instead, bathed her skin in the warm, flickering sunset colors of fire. He'll keep it in mind for next time, if there's a next time.

For now, Mick just watches the white/blue tones of the artificial light bring out purple hues in Amaya's hair as she flicks it out of her way to give Mick and inviting look over her shoulder. She whistles again, soft and sweet, ruffles her hair some more, and then cups her own breasts confidently, lifting and massaging them, still maintaining that come-hither look in her eyes. Mick's breath stutters out of him at the sight of her, preening for him, beckoning him to come closer, to touch her. He stumbles out of his own pants and goes to her, kneeling on the bed behind her, and replaces her hands with his own.

Amaya sighs and sinks into Mick's touch, letting her full body melt back into his. He sighs too. She's soft and warm against him, her breasts perfect in his hands, nipples pressing into his palms as he spreads his fingers over each mound and kneads. Amaya's head falls back against Mick's shoulder and he uses one hand to brush her hair out of the way so he can put his lips back on her jaw and throat. It's just as soft as he'd imagined, and tickles him as it cascades over his scarred shoulder. He keeps running that hand through it, and the combined sensations make Amaya's back bow. She bites her lip, lets out a quiet high-pitched hum (human this time, and twice as beautiful as anything more exotic might have been). She stretches her neck to lavish the same treatment she's getting there on the sensitive lobe of Mick's ear. He shudders under the attention, his hands reflexively tightening in her hair and on her breast, and they both breath out soft moans into each other's skin.

After a quick, sharp nip at the vulnerable space where his throat meets the hinge of his jaw that causes Mick's body to roll forward into hers of its own accord, Amaya takes Mick's hands and folds them around hers, their fingers intertwining, and pulls his arms around her. She rocks back against him and his body moves with hers naturally, a sweet rhythm starting up as friction and heat begins to build between them. Mick's eyes squeeze shut and he buries his nose in her hair and breathes her in deep as they move. Amaya moves her hips in just the right way so that Mick's cock can slip in between her legs, the swollen crown brushing against her where she is hot and wet and ready for him, and he groans helplessly into her hair, pleasure and anticipation heating his blood in waves. She moans too, and presses back harder, more insistently. He knows exactly how she feels.

When Mick's cock is slick from her and they are both gasping and shuddering and ready, Amaya bends forward, pulling Mick down along with her, on top of her. She stretches their arms out above her head together, squeezing his fingers tight in between hers. She uses the leverage of her knees and hips against the bed to rock up into him more firmly as he brings his weight down on her with just as much desire. The sheets rustle underneath them as they rub and rut. Amaya's hair spills across Mick's pillow when she turns her head to the side to gasp out his name, and Mick breathes hers right back as his forehead falls down to rest between her shoulders.

He keeps slipping and sliding in between her legs, the heat of her against him - almost, almost around him - but not quite, not yet, a tease neither of them is intentionally inflicting on the other but that is serving its purpose just as well as if they had been fingering or licking at each other until one or the other was begging. He is panting wetly against her back and she is holding his hands so tight it almost hurts, whining in the back of her throat, their sweat mixing together on their skin, when at last they get the angle just right and Mick finally slides into her. Mick cries out at the heat of her, tight around him but opening to him so easily. For all that the sound is short-lived, quiet, breathy, it's entirely uncontrolled. Free. Mick lets out another one just because he can, because it feels good, feels right, feels natural.

" _Yes_ ," Amaya hisses, like she can tell exactly how he feels, and is into it. She probably can and is, and that only makes it more intense, Mick's body shuddering like it might fall away, burn up and leave just him behind - just the real him, the him he is underneath the confines of his skin, Amaya using her voice and her body to nurse the flame. "Yes, Mick - _oh_ \- harder." And Mick responds on instinct. It's so easy to give her what she wants from him, feels so good to meet her expectations without trying, so good to hear her tell him he has. "Yes, yes - _Mick_!"

"Amaya," Mick groans back as she tightens her hold on him, hands and body both. " _Fuck_..." She answers him with a high whine, and picks up the pace, his body following her lead without hesitation, as it has done since they started, since before that. He can barely breathe, and she's not in any better shape. Mick can feel her toes start to curl against his ankles, and vaguely considers bringing a hand down underneath her, between her legs, to get her off faster, harder. But she seems intent on holding him, that feels just as nice as any pride or satisfaction from a different form of her pleasure might. Besides which, judging by the breathless cries coming from her now, Amaya doesn't seem to need anything more than what Mick is giving to her right now. As she gets steadily louder beneath him, Mick starts to lose his rhythm, his thrusts picking up an unsteady speed, his own moans rising in pitch and volume, the bed knocking into the wall.

Amaya comes first, with a high whimper, human and perfect, and gasping out his name. She pulses around him, making him go weak with it, and she hasn't even finished yet when he follows her over the edge. He whimpers too, a sound he's never made before, high-pitched and helpless, and then keeps moaning and gasping, breathing out Amaya's name again and again, as he finishes and his body lets go of all tension and sinks fully onto hers. She sighs happily, hums in her prolonged pleasure, moves up against him to draw it out even further, making Mick whimper again. She chuckles breathlessly at the sound, and he smiles against her spine.

Amaya finally releases Mick's hands once they've started to catch their breaths. He wraps his arms around her waist and squeezes gently, a sort of hug, before he rolls to the side to free her from his heat and weight. She lifts up onto one elbow and cups her chin in her hand to look down at him as he falls onto his back beside her, her eyes dancing. Mick can't know for sure, but he feels like his own expression as he gazes up at her is just as warm. Mick lifts a hand to brush her hair back behind her ear, to caress the side of her face, reveling in being able to be soft like this, to do whatever the hell feels right in this space before the outside world comes back to him and he loses this sense of ease. Amaya smiles, and kisses his palm.

"What now?" he murmurs into the thick atmosphere. Amaya lets her teeth show in her smile this time, nuzzles into Mick's palm and kisses him there again.

"What do your instincts tell you?" she asks leadingly. He hums in thought, continuing to run his hand through Amaya's hair as he contemplates how he feels, watching her face to see what strokes please her best, and also just to look because she's so beautiful.

Eventually he says, "Food," and Amaya's grin widens, her eyes scrunching up and sparkling. Apparently their 'instincts' are matching up. Mick brushes his nose against hers, holding the back of her head like he would if they were kissing with their mouths. Then he slides out of bed, pulling the sheet out from under her as she goes. The momentum rolls Amaya onto her back and Mick pauses to look at her some more. She stretches out under his gaze, preening, and he smiles.

Mick leaves his room and walks through the Waverider in nothing but his thin sheet wrapped around his waist, far past caring what anyone who might see him will think. Normally he either plays to his audience or else flies in the face of expectations with everything he's got, but for now, still warm all over and a little fuzzy in the head with the afterglow, Mick just does what he would do if it were just him and Amaya alone on board, and the opinions of others will be whatever they are with him independent of them without a thought. He makes his way into the kitchen and pauses, standing in the middle of the room, the excess fabric of his makeshift toga skirt trailing behind him where he stands. Mick licks his own teeth, thinking over what kind of snack he wants to share. Finally, Mick decides on fruit, and Gideon synthesizes him a small basket of peaches and blueberries. He tucks in a knife and makes his way back to his room, holding the sheet around his naked body and the food in the same hand so that he can palm some of the berries to nibble on in the other.

Amaya is exactly where Mick left her when he gets back into his room. He hands her the basket of fruit and lets the sheet drop to the floor before sliding back into the bed beside her. She sets the basket down in between and snuggles up to him around it. He feeds her from his hand, her nibbling playfully at his fingertips when he presses a blueberry against her lips, licking up the sticky juice from the peaches when he gives her slices. She fees him too, the bright flavors bursting over his tongue, chased by the more subtle taste of her skin. Her breath smells fruity when she brushes sticky kisses over his eyelids and cheeks. The empty basket gets tossed onto the floor with the abandoned sheet when the fruit is gone, both of their hands and faces sticky and sweet. Amaya rubs her face all over Mick, lipping and nipping at his skin the way she started this out, almost like she's trying to clean him up. She only succeeds in smearing more juice around, and they both quietly laugh about it, unconcerned. Maybe they'll take a shower together later, Mick hopes. Amaya settles down eventually, resting her head against Mick's shoulder and curling up in the fold of his arm around her, her knees tucked up against his side. It's cool now that they aren't moving anymore, but still warm enough that they don't need to cover themselves yet. Mick idly considers telling Gideon to increase the base temperature in his room. For next time.

"So," he asks after a while, pulling Amaya closer into his side. "There any animals that do if face to face?" He can feel Amaya's grin as she stifles a laugh against his shoulder before she picks herself up to lean over him, her hair falling around both of their faces.

"Primates do," she answers, with a flirty hitch of her eyebrows. Mick wraps one hand around her waist, cups her face with the other, just because he likes the way she feels.

"Is that so?" he murmurs, playfully feigning intrigue, loving how her eyes sparkle down at him.

"Mm-hm," she hums, nodding and bringing her body down closer to his, one elbow at the side of his head, and the other hand petting at the strong base of his throat. "They kiss on the mouth too."

"Wow," Mick says, the corner of his mouth lifting, unable to totally keep up the innocent facade. "Sounds _wild_."

Amaya laughs out loud through the widest smile yet, the sound brighter by far than the flavor of the peaches, and when she finally presses their mouths together and kisses him, the taste of her is even sweeter than a blueberry.

**Author's Note:**

> The mating ritual of peach-faced lovebirds: female attracts male by singing and fluffing her feathers, male attracts female by singing and dancing. Foreplay consists of cuddling and grooming each other. He holds onto her wings during the Main Event. The male hunts down some fruit or grains for a snack and they feed each other in the afterglow, followed by more grooming and cuddling. Adorable.
> 
> check me out on [tumblr](http://redblooded-disadvantage.tumblr.com) for stale meta and fresh memes


End file.
